


Large Parcels, Brief Encounters

by raptatta



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, but all you need to know is that seifukus and boys getting it on are involved, i was tempted to make this worse than it already is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raptatta/pseuds/raptatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kenma Kozume buys a school girl uniform. Kuroo admires it, and Hinata simply bumps into him. With both instances ending wonderfully, you'd imagine that it's not too hard to get over the initial embarrassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Large Parcels, Brief Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> a kenkuroo sundae topped with kenhina and a bit of smut on the side
> 
> this isnt the most embarrassing thing ive ever written, but it _is_ still pretty embarrassing...........*cries* it was initially a birthday present for a SPECIAL SOMEONE...

Sitting on Kenma's bed was the largest parcel he’d ever gotten.

The thing was that no matter how many games he’d played, and no matter how much time or money he’d spent on them, the internet was something he rarely used; buying things online was unusual, even for him, and even more so when they got to him so quickly. Bent in front of Kenma’s bed was Kuroo, his arms crossed diligently over his knees as he examined the package right in front of him, and the both of them sat there staring at it as if they’d never seen anything quite like it before.

Oddly enough, despite the rarity of such an occurrence, Kenma knew exactly what it was. (He _had_ ordered it himself, after all, and wasn’t ignorant enough to forget about the things he’d purchased.)

“Suspenseful,” Kuroo said, and turned his head over his shoulder to look at him. “What the hell, why’s it so big?”

“Uh,” Kenma said, and sat down on his bed. Grasping the parcel with one hand, he scooted towards his night stand for a moment and reached over to retrieve a pair of scissors from the top drawer. Really… if he was going to be accurate, it wasn’t _that_ big, but he was going to have the time of his life cutting through all the packaging tape wrapped securely around it. “I don’t know?”

“Huh? How d’you not know?”

Kenma frowned. “Well, I… know what it is? If you wanna know so badly…”

Kuroo squinted at him. “Unless you’re going to take your time opening it,” he said, “I’d like to.”

He cut through the first, smaller layer of tape and ripped it off with his hands. “Like a month ago,” he said, turning it over to cut through the rest as he balled the rest up and tossed it to the floor, “I bought this like… there was some guy on a website selling a bunch of things for a really low price, like half off or something.” Some of the packaging came undone and Kenma ripped _that_ off too. “I got an e-mail from him saying he’d… like, discount me a shipping price if I bought something else from him, so I guess this is it.”

“But what _is_ it?” Kuroo asked. “I don’t really care about the story. I just wanna know what it is.”

”It’s a school girl uniform,” Kenma said shamelessly. “I’ve always kind of wanted one.”

“Uh,” Kuroo said. “Seriously?”

What came into his view next was the familiar bag of plastic that held the clothing airtight. Kenma carefully made himself an opening through the tape, pulled it out, and laid it on his lap; surprisingly, not a wrinkle was to be seen in the fabric and Kuroo even leaned over a little, surveying the torso of it, pressed against the transparent material. At least he was right—it was, in fact, the uniform, and not something else he maybe ordered— like the other item, perhaps, that even _made_ this possible. But for a split second, Kenma didn’t really care about anything else, really. He was a little too preoccupied with what he’d just opened, and it appeared to be that Kuroo was, too.

Kenma looked at him. “Seriously,” he replied. “But it’s not that exciting…”

“Well, obviously,” Kuroo said. “It’s sitting in plastic. You think an outfit is gonna look cool just sitting on a rack? You buy it to wear it, don’t you?” He looked up at him. “You up to putting it on in front of me?”

“I guess,” Kenma said. The upside to a lot of Kenma’s carelessness was that, unlike others, these sorts of things just didn’t embarrass him. There was worse to being with Kuroo in general than having to put on a dress in front of him, and it wasn’t like he went around wearing this kind of stuff as a hobby; no, it was a one time sort of thing he just chose to indulge on, and there wasn’t really a justifiable reason to feel humiliated by it. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have even thought about buying it in the first place. “If you want me to.”

”Go ahead,” Kuroo said, and nodded towards the uniform. “Does it look like I care? I just want an excuse to see you in a skirt.”

Which, was typical enough for something Kuroo _would_ say, even though Kenma gave him a dirty look after. But if he was going to be fair, he wasn’t the only one who needed an excuse.

“Fine,” he said, and kicked the packaging tape underneath his bed— at least for the time being. The first thought that entered his head was that—for one, he was really hoping they wouldn’t be interrupted, and two: that there wouldn’t be anyone to interrupt them, for that matter. Sure, he knew it wasn’t often that he got bothered while Kuroo hung around him, but he still made sure to double check his own thought process just incase. “But next time, you can act a little nicer.”

”Like you care,” Kuroo said, and shooed his hand in his direction. Smiling, he leaned against the bed. “I’m _waiting_...”

Rolling his eyes, Kenma kicked his sweat pants off. From there, it only took about two and a half minutes of carefully unfolding the clothing to put it on— and, because he didn’t care, really, he did it right in front of him. As he took off his shirt and pulled on the blouse, he began to do it up slowly as Kuroo drummed his fingers against his knees and patiently waited him out. He reflected on how to put the skirt on—should he stand up, or stay sitting? and decided with the latter; Kenma wiggled slightly into the skirt as he tucked the shirt in and helped himself (a bit embarrassingly) into the stockings, and made sure to readjust the bows. The whole thing was over in an instant, Kenma thought, as he did the final touches of getting ready— and for good measures, he made it seem authentic: getting rid of his boxers in the process as he stood in front of Kuroo after, fighting the urge to shove his hands into his pockets.

Kuroo nodded in approval. “You look good.”

“Do I?”

”Yeah,” Kuroo said, his eyes narrowed in satisfaction. “Hold on a sec. Turn around.”

Kenma did as he was told and turned around, looking over his shoulder as he did so; Kuroo fluffed the back of his skirt out for a moment, smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, and touched him lightly on the leg. To Kuroo, this was perfecting; it wasn’t quite appealing to him yet, and so he was fixing it, taking advantage of Kenma’s ability to simply ignore his pickiness and let him do as he pleased. But it didn’t last, and a moment later, Kenma faced Kuroo once again as he tried to adjust his posture, and then Kuroo sighed and smiled knowingly.

“So,” he said. 

Kenma looked at him. “So… you…”

”I wanna do it,” Kuroo said. “What about you?”

”Um,” Kenma said. He didn’t think the reaction would be _that_ immediate. “Kuroo…”

Kuroo whined a little and slid onto Kenma’s bed, leaning back on the palm of his one hand; expertly, he used the other to pat the spot next to him, urging the other boy to follow his lead. “Do you? You and me— we have to be thinking the same thing,” he said. “I know this whole school girl thing has to be from some theme— clearly judging by the games you play.”

Kenma couldn’t object to that even if he wanted to. He stared at Kuroo vehemently. “Yeah. So?”

”We can like…” Kuroo laughed a little and leaned forward, reaching for his hips with his hands. “Roleplay a little, y’know? Like this—“ and he dropped his voice a little. “Hey… you… were late for my class, you naughty girl. You’re gonna get a detention.”

“I—“

”Something like that,” Kuroo said, and grabbed him, pulling him towards the bed. “My room, after school. I’m gonna give you a whole two hours of homework. Studying on anatomy. Yeah, that’s it.”

Kenma grabbed Kuroo’s hands, trapping their fingers together as he moved towards him— but only a little. He wanted to laugh at the stupidity of such a statement, to call it dumb and gravitate towards something else instead, but the ferocity of Kuroo’s statement was true. Here he was, the coach of his team sitting harmoniously on his bed as he, Kenma, stood above him in a girls uniform, and he was going to try and object to something they both clearly wanted; when he thought about it, he could hardly care whether or not someone was home. They’d just have to respect that he wanted to be left alone. 

“Anatomy,” he said. “Uh… yeah…”

”Let’s do it,” Kuroo said. “Okay?”

A moment of silence passed between them until a sigh was what broke the tension.

”Okay,” Kenma said. “Put me on the bed.”

Kuroo moved his hands away and let Kenma sprawl out beneath him. Even though the moment was brief, Kuroo made sure everything was perfect: that Kenma’s skirt didn’t ride up, that they didn’t get caught up in having to clean anything off. He let Kuroo lean completely over him, his one hand balancing above his head against the headboard, the other beside his shoulder, and they stared at each other for a few seconds as Kenma got comfortable. All in all, they weren’t desperate. This was what usually happened, and though it had a build up, it was something they both liked equally. After all, where was the fun in rushing into things, anyway? 

Kenma touched Kuroo’s chest lightly with his hand and looked up at him.

“Please keep me quiet,” he said.

”No guarantees,” Kuroo whispered, and shifted between Kenma’s legs, slightly separating them. “Usually you are. Any objections?”

”No objections,” Kenma said, and sighed softly. There was a small delay, then, where Kenma thought that maybe Kuroo was expecting him to say something, but then he felt the familiar sensation of being pressed into the bed, Kuroo’s posture bent and shirked over him, his mouth ghosting just briefly over his jaw. He followed the short, stagnant kisses all over his face before they reached his lips, and it was only then that Kenma let his hands find Kuroo’s face, guiding him into a better kiss— the small nips and tweaks of his mouth turning into lasting, slow expressions of pleasure as he began to undo the zipper of his sweater. They multitasked, Kenma’s hands pushing the fabric off his arms as Kuroo never left his mouth, shucking it off behind him— and although it took a moment, he grew used to the sudden change of where his hands were just to place them on Kenma’s hips— to drag them down and lightly, but not hesitantly, stroke his thighs.

The touch made him shudder. He knew that Kuroo had an idea of the effect he usually had on him, but he chose—quite often, not to tell. Even the slightest touch would leave him warm and relaxed, and the sensation of having such callous, but smooth hands run over his skin made him flush. Kuroo never failed at being skilled when they played a match, and demonstrated this in situations that didn’t pertain to volleyball. It was the one trait he was almost always good at, no matter the time or place; Kenma admired this, and thus felt overwhelmed more often than not when they played around with intimate situations like this— and even more so with the knowledge that he was the only one he’d do it with. 

And so, despite the indecency of his current position, _and_ his state of wear, Kenma took a moment to pull away from the kiss to lazily press his mouth to Kuroo’s neck, hiding his face against his shoulder as he felt the front of the older boy’s jeans press against his skin. 

Kuroo hummed idly, taking advantage of Kenma’s separated legs; his skirt rode up a little, but not quite enough to show anything. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Kenma said. His face was growing warm. “Um… I just—“

“Spit it out,” Kuroo said. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

He closed his eyes, basking in the deep tone of Kuroo’s voice— the notable accent that dropped off of it. “I wanna touch you,” he said.

”Yeah?”

”Yeah,” Kenma said, and chose to ignore the fact that his shirt was still on as he reached for Kuroo’s belt buckle, lightly pulling on it. “Take your pants off already.”

Kuroo snorted and shook his head. “No need to be so impatient,” he said. “I’m getting there.”

He undid his belt and yanked it loose, but just so the hem of his pants hung forward unrestricted. He let Kenma’s fingers hastily unbutton the fly and tug the zipper down, and he leaned back on his heels to get it off the rest of the way and give the other an opening. Kenma, who appeared calm, was not necessarily anticipating what was to come— and it was rare he ever showed his excitement, if he even got excited to begin with. But what he _did_ know was that nothing he felt was artificial and he wouldn’t dare fake any of his reactions— not even if he wanted to. He felt Kuroo’s mouth drop kisses along his neck and jaw again, patterning them over the pale expanse of his skin, and then his hand wrapped around his wrist and placed his hand to the front of his boxers, vouching him to feel what was underneath: the all too familiar shape of his arousal, half hard against the fabric above his palm.

Kenma let out a breath and found the tip, pressing against it with his finger. “Already?”

Kuroo groaned and didn’t respond. The answer was obvious; he didn’t have a reason to answer it. Moving his hands, he reached up to undo the buttons holding Kenma’s shirt together, undoing them clumsily as he revealed an open part of the younger boy’s chest. “Mhm.”

“I—“ Kenma swallowed. “You’re—you’ll fuck me right?”

”Oh,” Kuroo said. “Yes.”

Keen on going farther, Kenma slid his hand inside of Kuroo’s boxers and twisted his hand, rubbing his thumb gently against his shaft before he took him into his hand. “Good,” he whispered. “I want you to.” The words were accentuated with the only angle Kenma could successfully manage, his hand—albeit backwards, slowly stroking the plausible length of Kuroo’s cock as he grew comfortable with the idea of what they were about to do, and he looked at him this time— meeting his eyes. 

He smiled weakly. “Am I pleasing you, teacher?”

“You didn’t seem so eager before,” Kuroo said with a growl. “What did you think was _originally_ going to happen?” He pressed against Kenma’s hand a little and purred deeply in pleasure—right against Kenma’s neck, and eased his hands into the open spot under his shirt. “ _Practice?_ By the way, I was kidding last—“ a sigh, “—time. Don’t ever say that again.” 

His breath sped up slightly. “I’ll drop the sense of humor if you do,” He said. “Now’s not the time.”

Kuroo laughed breathlessly and shifted against him. The next time they met in a kiss, it was much more vigorous; a noise died idly in Kenma’s throat as Kuroo bit his lip, and then his tongue smoothed it over as they went along with the new pace, falling back into the only thing they absolutely knew how to do, no matter where they were. Sometimes, if they just wanted to pass the time, kissing did a good job of that— (he remembered small sessions before each game, strict yet heart felt talks that led to restless kisses against the bench—) and to further prove the point, it was enough to have him forget about what was in his hand. He kissed the side of Kuroo’s mouth, set on hurrying along and putting aside the mindless foreplay, until something pulled him suddenly from that idea and made him jerk away. 

Kuroo had spread his hand out, his thumb circling evenly over his nipple, and Kenma reluctantly shied away from the sensation as he slid his hand to Kuroo’s hip and rested against it. His legs tensed, his whole body going stiff, and Kuroo merely leaned his forehead against his jaw, watching his reaction as if he thought of it as entertainment. He was getting annoyed— like this, he felt humiliated (but not in a bad way), his face hot with embarrassment as he felt thankful for the skirt that just obscured just how much he was enjoying this, though… somehow, he wanted to tell Kuroo to stop. 

“What?” Kuroo asked, his voice light with laughter. “Too sensitive?”

“Too sensitive,” he confirmed, squirming underneath his touch— but at least Kuroo got the idea. Perhaps it was only that he wanted to see how Kenma would react, taking pride in the fact that he could make him that way—and he couldn’t say he’d necessarily object to that. But at least he knew that time seemed to go by faster, after that; at some point, Kuroo had lost his shirt, and was currently in the process of kicking his pants off— and a moment later, they were both adjusting to a new position as Kenma slid into his lap, his shirt loose and baggy, the skirt falling irritatingly over his hips. But it wasn’t imperfect: like this, as Kuroo cradled him against his body, Kenma was able to wrap his arms around his neck and— despite the urgency, try not to rut against his stomach. But he was failing horribly.

He felt Kuroo’s hands shift underneath the pleat, shifting underneath his thighs to spread him out. He anchored Kenma forward, but if only to make it easier as he pressed his cock against his entrance— teasing him underneath the full intentions, tempting Kenma with forlorn anticipation, urging him to grow desperate—

“Living the dream yet?” He asked, but Kenma was barely paying attention. His head was draped shyly against his shoulder, his hair getting in the way of the majority of his vision, and Kuroo nudged him gently, pulling their bodies together. “Like in those games you play—“

Kenma let out a breath and rolled his hips against Kuroo’s stomach. He whispered something inaudible.

”Hm,” Kuroo said. “What was that?”

Again, his words came out incomprehensible. Kuroo pressed harder against him, groaning softly against his neck. “ _Kenma_ ,” he said. “Tell me—“

”I—“ Kenma gasped quietly. “Want you… in me—“ 

The words didn’t embarrass him, but he was having a hard time saying them. Perhaps his voice was so quiet that Kuroo couldn’t hear, or maybe Kenma just didn’t want to speak— but either way, he was willing to beg if it got them anywhere— if it meant he could have that relief. However, Kuroo simply panted against him, his breath hot and heavy— his voice deep and laced with arousal as he nodded, getting the idea, and he reached over to his pants still hanging off Kenma’s bed, fishing through them with his hand.

“Just give me—“ Kuroo sighed. “Give me a second. Kenma—“

He retrieved a small vial. It was so tiny it fit perfectly in his hand, but it was strangely easy to uncap. Maneuvering his hands around Kenma’s body was the hard part, but once he did, he poured a gratuitous amount of whatever it was onto his middle and ring fingers and rubbed softly above the spot he rested against, and progressed to pouring more— but more so for himself that time. Kenma felt where the tips of his knuckles brushed against his skin, his body trembling at the moan that left Kuroo’s mouth, his reaction to the sensation of slicking himself. He tossed the bottle away after he no longer needed its use and impatiently pulled Kenma’s skirt up his hips, holding it roughly as he waited—maybe a second, maybe a minute—before slowly pressing into him.

It always took a moment of readjusting. But Kenma hardly cared at this point, a ragged breath coming from him as he instantly reacted— rocking back against Kuroo’s cock as it sank into him, his hands burying in the older boy’s hair; the sensation alone left him feeling light and bubbly, his thighs stiffening at the feeling of being so full, and Kuroo was nice enough to wait until he was fully seated before doing _anything_. Maybe tomorrow, after the game against Aobajousai, he’d ask Kuroo to have him behind the gymnasium—

He grasped Kuroo’s hand against his hip and heaved, the breath leaving his chest once their skin pressed flush together, his head tilting back— reclined as his hair hung in front of his eyes. He grit his teeth once Kuroo eased back into him, pressing his weight forward, jostling him a bit. He couldn’t think of any other word to describe this other than relief— the feeling that washed over him, making him heavy, his head swimming. He spent so much time in the day, trying to pretend he cared about things—trying to seem collected and reserved, as he always was— if only until Hinata pulled him out of the trance; Kuroo was the only one who really let him go like this, was the only one who genuinely cared enough to make him feel good. He wasn’t too experienced in expressing himself, but even if the entirety of their situation was lewd— the uniform, the references to every game he played, the jokes Kuroo made— he wanted to laugh at him, to appreciate that he was doing this.

But he was sure his physical reaction weighed more than his emotional one, and this was never more apparent on Kuroo’s face than it was now. 

He swiveled forward, the motion making him dizzy, but it was there— the quaint rhythm Kuroo had set for him as he steadied him, slowly thrusting into him—and Kenma swore he felt his chest tighten, the softest noise coming out of him as each shift or change in tempo urged a different sensation. Before, maybe he thought they wouldn’t get to do this, that he was too small for Kuroo to even find interesting… that his bad posture and unsocial attitude made him unattractive—

He gasped against his mouth when he kissed him. Eventually, he let Kuroo’s shoulders go, falling back into the mattress at the older boy leaned back over him—and Kenma hissed at the stretch of his legs once they were bent back, his inexperienced flexibility making it a hard position to keep. But it stopped bothering him a moment later, Kuroo’s weight alone driving him into the bed as Kenma’s voice broke down; he cried out once Kuroo buried his face into his neck, snapping his hips forward quickly, the force of it making his body tense as he tried to grab at his back. But it was impossible— Kuroo had already grabbed his hands, easing their fingers together as he pushed them back on either side of Kenma’s head, and he made it hard to move— to do anything as he sped up, desperate to earn a noise out of the boy beneath him.

Kenma bit his lip and tightened his fingers, his legs spreading instinctively. He barely let out a noise—choking it out as he gasped and held his breath. “S—shh—! Someone will—“

But it was inevitable that this far in, either no one was paying attention, or no one wanted to interrupt them. His stomach twisted at the warmth that spread throughout him as he fought control to touch himself, to do anything to get rid of the deep tension that knotted in his body. This—yeah, it really was like the games he played—in fact, it was almost as if this were a simulation: the handsome captain of the school’s council club, ganging up on the new member, switching to the proper route as the CGI revealed a graphic sex scene—

Kuroo laughed breathlessly and groaned a moment later, curling Kenma’s hand into a fist as he brought it to his mouth— kissing it lightly—

as the stirring inside him only increased once he felt his body jerk at how deeply Kuroo entered him—

and it was then that Kenma froze and felt himself break into a sweat, his hips bucking forward as he came— his body stiffening in place as Kuroo slowed down, setting a softer pace, bringing out his orgasm; for a moment, he felt as though he might’ve passed out, if only from the intensity of all. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but gasp and let out quiet, anxious moans and sharp breaths, his head reclining back as he pushed his hand against Kuroo’s mouth— 

“ _Nn_ —“ he lost his breath. “I ca—“ 

“Cute, God,” Kuroo sighed, fucking him slowly— so slowly, in fact, that it was almost all too soon, too soon for him to adhere to anymore torture. “Keep goin’, Kenma— come for me—“

The feeling was almost electric, he felt so numb and overwhelmed; vulnerable, all he could do was scrabble for Kuroo’s arms, his voice coming back to him all at once as he let out a coarse cry of pleasure, and then finally— finally, it settled: the most intense thing anyone could ever feel as it slowly went away. 

Kuroo’s moan was predatory, then, low in his throat as he gave Kenma the relief from the aftershock, releasing his hands and brushing his lips over his cheek, firmly kissing the sides of his mouth and his ear. He reached up to steadily brush away the strands of blonde hair that stuck to Kenma’s forehead with sweat, stroking it back so that it didn’t get in his face. Kenma wanted to writhe away from him the moment he felt Kuroo pause, (he didn’t, really) his nerves lighting in pleasure at the realization that dawned on him—the realization of knowing just when Kuroo came inside— and he ran his hands up his shoulder blades, holding onto the back of his neck, waiting until the groan that ghosted across his skin surpassed and it was nothing more than heavy breathing. He felt the muscles flex underneath his touch as he pressed his nails into his skin.

He expected Kuroo to collapse on top of him no more than a second later (it wasn’t unusual, after all— this was, quite often, a heavy sedative to him), but was relieved when he didn’t feel the weight crush him down. Instead, Kuroo rested their foreheads together and held himself up, catching his breath before he rolled off of him, and for a few minutes they simply lied down next to each other, winding closely. They waited until the sensitivity passed before even thinking about a conversation.

It was Kenma that broke the silence. “I’m not keeping this,” he said, a little breathless.

“I’ll buy you another one,” Kuroo panted. “I can get one downtown for like… not even a quarter of my paycheck.” 

Kenma looked at him. “Um… another one…? I don’t think—“ he paused. “Well… I don’t know. I guess I could always wash this one…”

At least the skirt was hitched halfway up his hips, avoiding the majority of a mess. He was sure that one private wash later, it’d be fine—so he didn’t worry too much. He watched Kuroo’s expression twist for a moment before it relaxed, and reveled in his silent agreement. 

“Am I allowed to skip practice tomorrow?”

Kuroo turned over onto his side. “We don’t _have_ practice tomorrow,” he said.

”Really…?” Kenma thought they did. He felt a little relieved. “I mean— I guess.” 

“We don’t have any games scheduled for this week, I think,” Kuroo said, and moved closer to him. He slid his arm underneath Kenma’s chest, unbuttoning the shirt the rest of the way, and he helped him get out of it— tossing it to the corner of the bed clumsily, hardly caring where it went. And Kenma fit perfectly against his chest, which was good— though it was only because of his size that made it easy to tuck him closely under his arm. He rested his chin against the top of his head.

“You can sleep in if you want. I won’t bother you. Provided that you recover by tomorrow,” he said. 

“ _You’ve_ killed me,” Kenma said quietly, and wrapped his arms around his waist. He lightly stroked Kuroo’s back. “Do you wanna stay?”

”…Why not?” Kuroo said. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better t’do.” 

\--

The next day went a little bit differently than both of them had hoped. As the alarm on his phone went off, Kenma reluctantly untangled himself from Kuroo’s protective grip to check his timer at half past dawn, and realized pitifully that they did, in fact, have practice. But luckily, it was one that only lasted an hour, and Kenma was sure that on some whim of motivation, he’d survive. Despite his disappointment, it wasn’t like they could simply pretend as if they’d have forgotten about it… and especially since Kuroo had a responsibility to uphold while they were at it, the level of professionalism would dwindle, knowing that their couch had been absent at a game. 

He was a little pleased to know they weren’t interrupted. They had fallen asleep pretty early… at least no one seemed bothered to know that Kuroo had stayed with him.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said, rolling over, and he pushed his hand against Kuroo’s face, gently patting it. “You liar, you said we didn’t have a game today…”

Kuroo huffed deeply in his face. 

“No,” he said drowsily.

“Yes,” Kenma said, exactly before he was promptly crushed by Kuroo’s weight. “Get up… ugh, you’re like deadweight!” 

Even after Kenma had shoved both his uniform and a strewn set of clothing into his sport bag, they were still fifteen minutes late. But luckily, by the time they got there, not everyone was absolutely ready— the gymnasium still hadn’t been set up, and Yamamoto was still sitting lopsided on the bench, shaking hair out of his water; all in all, it looked like they weren’t the only ones up for such a lazy morning, though Kenma couldn’t quite say he felt relieved. When they arrived on the court, Yamamoto straightened out and nodded at Kuroo, whose hands were busy shoved into his pockets. 

Around his shoulder were two duffel bags: one Kenma’s and one his own. Kuroo nonchalantly dropped them off at the benches and sat down. “Sorry,” he said. “I had a rough afternoon yesterday.”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Yamamoto said— and his gaze drifted in Kenma’s direction. “Kenma’s posture is unusually stiff today... isn’t it?”

Yaku’s voice floated over in the distance. “…Yeah! He’s all slumped over, like he’s got a cramp in his leg or something!”

Kenma straightened out and looked directly at him. Expressionless, he supposed it made for a slight cover up. “Ah… I’m sorry? I’m just tired, that’s all… what’s so bad about that?”

”Nothing,” Yamamoto continued, flashing him a smile. “Just thinking you might need to shape up a little, that’s all.”

Kuroo slapped his shoulder and shoved his head forward. “Shut up,” he said. “It’s seven in the morning. I don’t need this kind of useless banter. Beating up on our setter like that...”

“But Captain,” Shibayama said from halfway across the court, fishing through his pockets for the keys to the storage room. Upon opening the room, he walked into it if only to pull out a large bin filled with volleyballs, and Yamamoto rose to join him; he took one for himself, walking towards the middle of the court. “H-he’s just joking… yeah!”

Kenma shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s fine… it’s not like—“

“Catch!”

A volleyball soared through the air in front of him, but it wasn’t exactly a hard throw. Kenma pulled his pockets loose to reach up and catch it with both of his hands, twirling the ball side by side as he stared at it, sparing just a moment before he looked up. Even after just five minutes, it seemed that everyone had filled in… even Kuroo, who had discarded his heavy jacket to switch into his uniform. 

“All right, everyone,” Kuroo said, and took the volleyball from him. “Listen up. I had the gym reserved for only a few hours. So either we practice hard enough to worm ourselves out of the week, or face Karasuno with our current lack of preparedness.” (Yamamoto gave a hoarse yell in agreement, and tiny Yaku simply approved with a nod.) He paused. “Kenma?”

Kenma looked at him. “Um… yes?”

Kuroo’s head jerked in his direction. “Don’t push yourself,” he said. “I’ll meet you in the change room after practice.” 

There was something odd about the way he said that, so quietly and mischievously. It made Kenma anxious for some reason, his jaw setting stiffly as he nodded, and he was quick to shed his sweater and get on with what they came for. It was funny—usually, Nekoma wasn’t too reluctant to play _anything_ , even this early. But perhaps it was simply one of those days, he supposed, where it wasn’t just him that felt off— but non-surprisingly, for an entirely different reason. He took his position behind the net, staring at the broad expanse of Kuroo’s back— a slight shiver passing through him at the memory that returned to him, and waited until it was his turn to set the ball. It was going to be a long two hours, and a worthy two hours that hopefully would count into their next match against Karasuno.

And badly, Kenma wanted to impress Hinata—to look into his eyes and witness the same excitement he possessed the last time they played against each other… the same happiness and anticipation on his face when he realized just how much he motivated Kenma to do his best.

He was sure Kuroo would agree.

\- I - 

For 30 minutes, they devised a game plan. It was their last half hour before they had to get ready to leave, and the entirety of their team sat together with fleshed out ideas and tactics around the main net. Kenma found himself only focused on one thing: calling out Hinata’s tricks and ways to use his reflex to his advantage, and more so Karasuno’s pattern while they played.

His arms were sore and light from the activities that had ensued in the last day or two, and there was a general longing to simply go home and sleep— or better, curl up and sit on his phone until he grew too tired to pay attention— to maybe, if he were up to it, text Hinata about the next time they could get together and do something. It wasn’t often that he was so enthusiastic about making plans, but for Hinata… he didn’t mind.

Unfortunately, Kuroo had to go with the other team members. While Kenma was a little disappointed upon knowing that they couldn’t spend time together, it wasn’t so bad— he received a chaste kiss on the cheek and an affirmative response: that he’d get a call later that night, so he couldn’t say it was _that_ let down. Even if Kenma had to walk home alone, his house wasn’t that far, and he’d have some time to think on his own without worrying about the company of someone else.

So, he crossed the gym after leaving the change room, pushing the door open as he pulled his sweater on and pulled his face in while hiding from the chilly air, and didn’t worry too much about having to return home.

Until— 

He bumped into someone.

Kenma let out a small yelp of surprise as the other person fell, with less grace then he thought, to the concrete. If his phone were out, he would’ve felt terrible!— but for once, Kenma was actually looking where he was going and couldn’t say it was his fault… after all, he wasn’t really moving very fast, anyway. Bewildered, Kenma turned to help up the unlikely victim, reaching his hand out, until he saw their face and froze instantaneously.

“Kenma!?”

”Hinata—“

Hinata jumped and dusted off his jacket. “Ahh… oh _no_! I’m sorry! I bumped into you!”

Kenma’s hand was frozen mid-air. “Um... I—“

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Leave it to Hinata to brush off even the tiniest things. Kenma wished he possessed such a quality, even if it wasn’t that hard to execute. If he had such a positive outlook on everything like Hinata did, perhaps he’d be able to enjoy other things— things that didn’t just pertain to his interests. “I’m not really in a hurry to go anywhere particular… it’s actually kind of good I bumped into you rather than somebody else!”

Kenma thought back to before, when he considered texting him. “Oh,” he said. “I… agree?” It was only until a second after he said that when he realized: Hinata was by himself. He was shocked a little by this. What was Hinata doing in _Tokyo_ , alone? “Where’s… um…”

“He’s with our captain,” Hinata said, stopping him before he got Kageyama’s name wrong (he wouldn’t have, really!). “He told me just to return to our hotel. How come?”

”Nothing,” Kenma said quietly. “Just wondering… are you…” what was he going to ask again? “Uh— are you… going there right now?” He didn’t want to pry into why Hinata was here; he assumed the latter, that him and Karasuno were here sightseeing, getting a feel of the area before they came for preliminaries. 

”Yeah,” Hinata said, running a hand through his hair. He swung forward and stood up, straightening out his jacket, and he pulled on his hands to get the dirt off of them. “Why? Are you heading home too? I mean— to your house. Did you guys have practice or something?”

Kenma looked at the gymnasium behind him quickly. “Oh… yeah.”

“Me too!” Hinata said, beaming. “Well… so did we, I guess! We rented out a gym downtown for the weekend. So that must mean you’re heading back too?”

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about that sentence made Kenma unbelievably happy. He thought about it: asking Hinata to walk home with him, offering to go get a bite to eat with him… offering to detour to the gym they were practicing at. But at the realization of his own thoughts, Kenma looked away from him to hide the flush that settled on his face as he nodded. 

“Yeah, I am…” He said. “Kuroo had something to do, so it looks like I’m free for the—“

Suddenly, Hinata grabbed his hands, and if Kenma was trying to hide his blush from before, the intensity of it increased tenfold. “Really? Hey, how about I walk home with you then? Seeing as though we don’t really have anywhere else to go… my phone is dead, so it’s not like I can really text anyone to let them know where I am…”

So then… it figured that Hinata was alone and not with someone else. Kenma weighed down his options. It didn’t really seem like a bad idea. “Ah… sure? I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I’ll…” he patted Hinata’s hand. “You can walk me home, if that’s all right with you.”

Hinata glowed with a smile and moved away. “That sounds great,” he says. “How long has it been since we’ve actually had a decent talk, anyway? Whoa… it was almost like yesterday that we met, didn’t we? I bet I looked pretty dumb, then, didn’t I?”

Kenma chose not to think about that sentence. He could only think of a million other words better than “dumb”. He felt like by doing this he was somehow betraying Kuroo; Kenma would be caught dead ever acting like _this_ in front of him, considering it was so rare it was nearly impossible that things ever embarrassed him… especially like this. But if that was going to be what he thought, then admitting that Hinata fueled his interest for volleyball itself would be just as humiliating, and Kenma didn’t think that it was. After all, he didn’t think so competitively as everyone else. To him, volleyball wasn’t just a sport worth fighting for.

So Kenma simply agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he managed with a single nod, and decided that carrying a conversation with Hinata didn’t seem like betrayal after all.

\--

Half an hour later, Hinata stood at Kenma’s doorstep, his fingers a little numb from the cold as their feet touched. Their breath was coming in light puffs of air as the temperature began to drop outside. Kenma’s driveway was empty (for once), meaning that no one was home— and strangely enough, Hinata’s response to this was a small frown. 

“Ah… looks like no one’s home,” he said.

“Is that so much of a bad thing?” Kenma asked. If only he could come home to this every day. He preferred being home alone rather than being in a house full of people. He paused for a moment and looked towards him. 

“Um… thanks for walking me home,” he said. 

”Don’t sweat it,” Hinata said, and smiled at him. Kenma fought off the urge to smile back. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that Hinata wouldn’t mind; after all, it wasn’t as if they’d just spent 30 minutes catching up with each other, albeit Kenma’s reluctance to really go into detail. “It’s pretty cool that I’m standing outside your house right now, anyway! I thought I’d never really get to see it! You’re really cool, Kenma...”

Kenma blushed slightly. “Thanks,” he said. “Um… you too.” 

“You… uh, ha ha, you didn’t really strike me as someone that legitimately found interest in me,” Hinata said shyly. “I mean, you’re so quiet and what not… it just seems like you’d find someone like me annoying.”

Kenma stared at him with a blank expression. “Well, I like you, Hinata,” he said. “What’s so weird about that?”

Hinata laughed nervously. “Oh… um, nothing—“

Kenma looked down. He wanted to avoid looking at Hinata’s face as much as possible at this point. 

“It’s… no big deal that I do,” he said. “You’re just naturally easy to get along with.” 

Hinata looked embarrassed. “That’s just about the nicest thing you’ve ever said, I think,” he said quietly. It was completely different from how he usually spoke, considering that Hinata was always so boastful and excited… to see Hinata flustered was stranger than what he was used to, but he supposed they all had those moments. And it wasn’t like it was a bad thing, anyway. But the problem was that if it kept up, he wouldn’t be the only one. 

He almost looked… Kenma looked away to avoid the impulsive thoughts. He’d seen this enough in games and movies to know what would happen if he pursued his fantasies. “I… I try,” he said.

“Hey, Kenma?” 

Kenma looked at his feet. “What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The question was enough to snap him out of his flustered trance and get his attention. Kenma looked up, maybe just a little too quickly, in response to what he was just asked, his hands curling tightly in his pockets as he stared at Hinata in bewilderment. But it looked like the last thing Hinata said this with was confidence— his face, perhaps, was redder than his own, though the only notable difference was that he was attempting at a smile.

“I mean, you don’t _have_ to kiss me,” Hinata said, and began to wave his hands around. “R-really, it’s fine! I was just thinking… you looked pretty cute just now!”

Kenma jolted. “ _What?_ ” he asked, completely surprised. Was he just— “I— Hinata…”

“You don’t—!”

It was so quick, then, the options he chose. He thought about the day before, when he had no problem asking Kuroo to do inappropriate things to him, to kiss him like he meant it… so, embarrassment was really going to get him nowhere, if that was what he had convinced himself. And it was why Kenma took a sharp second to lean down, quickly pressing a light kiss to Hinata’s lips before he pulled away, and he instantly pulled his hand out of his pocket to cover his mouth with it and bite his lip. 

“Yes,” he said, belatedly. “Uh…”

Hinata squeaked. “Uh—”

“Do you want to come in?” Kenma blurted out. Might as well take advantage of the fact that no one was home. He didn’t really expect Hinata to answer right away, anyway—

—However, what really shocked him was that he did, his face a light shade of pink. “Y-yes, I’d like to.”

\--

It didn’t matter that he was taller than Hinata, though barely; it was still fairly easy to fist his hands in the younger boy’s shirt and tug him forward, Hinata’s feet stumbling into his bedroom as they fought the urge to look away from each other, clearly embarrassed by how quickly they had tried to make it upstairs. Spare a few awkward moments of Kenma asking if he wanted something to eat, their jackets discarded on the coat hanger, it was fairly obvious that Hinata was still rather embarrassed… and so this was what he offered, despite the clear intentions of it. But no sooner had they made it up the stairs, Hinata was grabbing his hands, urging him to do something— and Kenma had gotten the idea long before it was even offered.

He didn’t bother closing the door. Hinata, despite his hesitance, diffidently pushed him towards his bed and crawled on top of him. For a moment, they sat there— staring at each other coyly as Kenma readjusted his grip on Hinata’s shirt, unable to move or do anything— until Hinata finally grew the courage to lean down and kiss him. It was shy— cute, if that was the appropriate word for it, and Kenma could honestly say that this was vastly different from being with Kuroo; it embarrassed him to the point where he felt his face heat, a bit nervous to kiss back, until him and Hinata decided to try it again and pull away from each other.

“How—“ Hinata swallowed. “How do you want to—“

“Um…” Kenma bit his lip. “Do you want to… here,” he continued. “I’ll do it.”

Hinata nodded, flustered, and pried Kenma’s hands away from his shirt. Their positions drastically changed as the younger boy rolled over, and Kenma found himself on the opposite side; he was the one straddling Hinata this time, his hair hanging loosely in front of his face, and it took him a second to get used to such a position. He saw Hinata looking intently at him, anticipation written all over his face, and Kenma simply thought to himself: _You’re used to this. This isn’t anything new._

He pretended Hinata was Kuroo, even if it were quick, just to get comfortable with the idea of doing this— his hands pressing against the other’s chest again as he leaned down to kiss him. Though this time, it wasn’t so awkward and clumsy, and Hinata attempted to kiss him back this time, his own hands finding Kenma’s as he held them protectively against his chest. He hoped that perhaps, on some whim or miracle, his phone would’ve died too… getting a text from Kuroo in the middle of this would be a disaster. It’d no doubt ruin everything.

Though, he supposed he could ignore it.

“Kenma,” Hinata said against his mouth, making a soft noise, and Kenma’s breath caught in his throat at how quiet it was. 

“Yeah?”

“We’re…” Hinata paused. “We’re kissing,” he said.

“We are,” Kenma said.

“You’re a good kisser,” Hinata continued.

Kenma flushed a light shade of red and nodded timidly. “Y-yeah,” he said. “I guess I am.”

Hinata panted a little. 

“Kenma?” he asked again.

“Yes?”

Hinata nudged his head away, his eyes trailing down his bed and to the floor. At first, Kenma was a little confused as to just what he was looking at, until he turned his head over his shoulder to see for himself; sitting in front of his closet, and strewn messily without even a single sense of control, was the girls uniform in all its glory. Kenma visibly jolted in surprise at the unusual casualty of such a scene, until Hinata’s hands tugging at his brought him back to earth. He didn’t want Hinata to mention it. With Kuroo, it was one thing… but—

“Is… that yours?” Hinata asked, his voice holding a slight sense of anxiousness.

It was the question that got him into it.

It took close to no persuading for Hinata to convince him it was all right to put it on. He had already done it once, so it wasn’t too hard to get into it again, but Kenma felt much more exposed in front of Hinata wearing it than he had felt the other day. He tried not to seem hesitant while pulling it back on, if only to resume his last position on top of the other boy, though Hinata didn’t comment on his state of wear so promiscuously… instead, he lightly ran the material of his skirt through his fingers and said, “You… look really cute.”

Kenma’s chest felt tight. “Kiss me again,” he said.

They progressed a bit slower than usual. However, their once shy and timid kisses seemed to get better over time as the initial embarrassment faded away, leaving a superior sense of control and… _want_ , maybe. He felt childish like this, as if this was his first crush— (he wasn’t about to lie… he _did_ have one on Hinata… maybe just a little one), but there was nothing to do except overcome it. Though the heat in his cheeks went away, he was relatively sure he was still flushed, even just a bit— though judging by their current situation, they were both on equal ground. 

He kissed Hinata’s jaw chastely, dropping small kisses over the only spot on his neck that was exposed, before he pulled back—taking his hands with him. He was trying not to move around too much, his hips hovering directly over the others, though he knew it’d be inevitable at some point. But he could tell, just by Hinata’s enthusiasm, that he wasn’t the only one who wanted to move on. Even if this wouldn’t be the same as anything else, he— he really, genuinely liked Hinata, and even just this was enough to make him react completely differently. Sometimes, he wished that they had never even met during that one morning…. that on some whim, Nekoma and Karasuno would have never faced each other.

But he was happy at the same time. He hadn’t buttoned up the blouse all the way, so he carefully slid Hinata’s hands inside the open shirt. At first, Hinata was a little confused as to why Kenma had stopped kissing him, and he even looked up to ask him this. “Kenma…?”

“Can you…” Kenma dropped his grip to Hinata’s wrists before letting them go. “I’d— you can touch me, if you want.”

“Oh…” Hinata’s fingers tensed. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It’s just, I—“

Hinata’s first two digits, in even symmetry, brushed over the very tips of his nipples, and he stiffened at the sudden contact and tried to hold in a noise. Unlike Kuroo’s hands, Hinata’s were soft and gentle as they brushed over his skin, and he didn’t press too hard, either. It was the perfect distribution— the _only_ type that let it slowly build up over time, though… because it was Hinata, on some level, it made it worse. The only difference between Kuroo and Hinata that he knew of was that, even though he liked the both of them, Kuroo’s ways of going about things appealed so much more—after all, it wasn’t like he chose to be with Kuroo for no reason. But Hinata was cute, small— just like him, and though inexperienced, simply strived to follow his instincts, and it made it hard to choose between what he liked more and what he liked less.

He didn’t want to admit it, but comparing the differences—for some reason, it made him restless.

Although it took a moment, Kenma finally discarded any nervousness he had before; carefully, he shifted to press flush against Hinata, pausing in response to the choked noise he made against him before he continued. It felt strange, sitting in this position, since their bodies were both completely proportionate… but he wasn’t about to think of it in a negative light. Instead, he chose to ignore it, slowly grinding down against the dip in his lap as Hinata let out another noise, and then another— and another, until they were tiny, breathless pants against his neck, his head buried against his shoulder. Underneath him, Hinata gave an experimental rock upwards, pressing stiffly against him through his pants before he froze— and although it wasn’t what he thought it was, it could’ve fooled anyone by the way he shivered and fought with the decision of where to put his hands.

“ _Kenma_ ,” Hinata whined. “A-ah—“

Kenma’s body dipped down, his shoulders slumping forward as he sighed, his hips pressing down again as he rolled his hips against the younger boy’s stomach. “Yeah—“

He felt Hinata’s head lean forward, their bodies turning over again, and then— Hinata took the boldest route he could find courage for, uncomfortably settling against him but kissing down Kenma’s neck— shy, but right; shaking lightly from the friction given to him just moments ago. He began to rub his fingers slowly over the sensitive parts of his chest again, Kenma’s lips parting as he let out a soft breath, and because Hinata was pressed so closely against him, even in the sudden change of position, he could still feel himself press firmly against his stomach. But the younger boy didn’t seem to mind, his index and middle digits switching to his thumbs, and he rolled them in quaint circles; Kenma’s body gave a light jerk at the sensation as he gasped and reached down to pull at the sleeves of Hinata’s shirt. 

“I—“ Hinata pressed his lips together. “O—oh. Right.” He took his hands off for a second to remove his shirt. There was nothing really to admire, if he was going to be honest… Hinata was small and hardly built, really. But Kenma found it unbelievably cute, just what he looked like, and he fought the urge to splay his palms over his chest— to feel him, to map out his skin. “Do… you want me to—“

“ _Yes_ ,” Kenma managed with a soft moan, leaning back into his bed. “I want you to.”

“Okay,” Hinata said quietly. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

He got nervous. He was unsure of what was going to happen, though all he knew was that when Hinata fingers returned, they pressed harder— more urgently. Kenma was getting a little bit irritated with the skirt. But either he had expected this, or he hadn’t— but Hinata’s kisses eventually dipped lower, and lower— until he was reaching down to tug Kenma’s blouse out of his skirt and continue them teasingly over his navel, his lips brushing warily over the line of his hip. He felt his whole body tense, knowing— _oh_ , this was what he was going to do— he had done it before— until Hinata stopped entirely, looking at him with an open mouth, his cheeks heated and red. His hand just barely touched down over his thigh, hesitating to move underneath his skirt—

“Hina—“ but he was interrupted before he could say it. Instead of his hand, Hinata’s head had dipped underneath his skirt. It was a clear sign that he was lacking experience; no one went in that quick, but Kenma was hardly one to object as he felt a hot breath pass over the head of his cock, Hinata’s mouth closing over it apprehensively. He had apparently discarded the idea of putting his hands anywhere but under his chin, his fingers steadying against his thighs to nervously spread them apart as Kenma quickly hiked the skirt up his waist to see him, and although what he saw wasn’t Hinata looking at him expectantly, it was Hinata’s lips spreading evenly over just his shaft— though not very far.

He slid his hands through his hair—desperate for a place to put them. Still exhausted from the other day, he could tell this wouldn’t last very long… but it didn’t mean he couldn’t try, that he couldn’t enjoy it. He let out a breathless moan and lifted his legs a bit, feeling his cheeks go hot with shame, something unlike he was ever used to— and twisted his fingers into Hinata’s curly tresses, pushing him down. And in response, Hinata let out a strangled noise— struggling slightly before he pulled off— (he nearly gagged, even) defeated in trying to do something he knew he couldn’t do, panting quietly before he decided… daring was not the way to go. Instead, he craned his neck and littered clumsy, nervous kisses over the base of his cock— his hands trembling as he pressed his tongue to the flat of his shaft.

You would think such a sight would be unattractive. But to Kenma, it didn’t matter. 

Instead, he encouraged it. 

He was shameless, if only for a second— slowly rocking his hips forward to grind against Hinata’s face, trying to imagine him doing this to anyone else. He couldn’t, which was the sad thing about it— Hinata was so innocent, so tiny and excited, that this concept seemed almost foreign and unheard of. He felt dirty—in a bad way, doing this, rutting against the younger boy as if he was simply there to entertain him, though the deepest parts of Kenma—the ones that weren’t embarrassed, or faint hearted, wanted to kiss him— to repeat the motion he’d done at his doorstep, to tell him how much he enjoyed it, how he wanted to last— to drag it out. He heard Hinata give a light, embarrassed moan at his movements, not so much ashamed but tentative in what he was doing—and then his left hand crept up once more, finding home, mixing in with the already sensitive sensations he was receiving— only adding to the heat that pooled, too quickly, throughout the center of his body. In response, his hips gave a firm thrust forward, Hinata’s other hand wrapping around him to stroke him— slowly, but determinedly, and he had to really try just to keep his next moan in.

He came quicker, this time. Without being touched, Kenma succumbed to the only thing he could do, to try and push Hinata’s face away from his cock when his orgasm hit— his body turning sideways as he curled up into his sheets. But he held Hinata there, tightly within his fingers, his eyes squeezing shut as he cried out and tried to press against his bed, and Hinata merely gasped at his perseverance as he let Kenma come down from his high— until he was letting out shallow, quiet breaths at how quickly he had finished.

“Kenma?” he asked. “Kenma—a-are you alright?”

Kenma let out a sharp sigh. “I’m fine,” he said, and his body relaxed—but only because he willed it to.

“Wow,” Hinata said. “I… I didn’t think you’d actually—“ he hesitated.

And to think he had let Hinata walk him home for this— it certainly wasn’t a bad thing, but he couldn’t help but feel ashamed. He was sure that if he decided to check his phone, he’d see just a couple texts—not a lot, because Kuroo wasn’t exactly a consecutive texter—but enough to know that he had wondered (worried) where he was. He turned back over to look at Hinata, lying shirtless and small on his bed, his head bowed in embarrassment as he held onto the side of Kenma’s hip, and he slowed his breathing before turning the other way— leaning down on his elbows to kiss him.

Hinata bashfully kissed him back. But the adrenaline had long since faded away, and it was quick and virtuous— they pulled away, unable to look each other in the eyes, until Hinata finally said, “Oh! Um—you must… you must be really uncomfortable in that, right?” 

Kenma touched his shoulder. “A little,” he said, making a face. “We—do you need help?” He gestured between them and couldn’t help but notice how Hinata jolted in response to it, the tips of his ears going red at the realization.

He seemed to pause on the thought of it. “I-it’s all right,” he said. “I promise! Really… I’ll live.” 

“Are you sure…?”

Hinata laughed nervously. “I’m a little embarrassed!” he squeaked. “This is so… embarrassing! It is! I just—“ he shook his head. “I just— I put my mouth down there!”

Kenma laughed back at him. “You did,” he said.

Hinata grabbed his hand and shook it. “If your parents come home they’ll kill me!”

 _No they won’t_ , Kenma felt like saying, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to admit that he felt a little discouraged by Hinata’s statement, but he couldn’t necessarily object to it. Unlike Kuroo, Hinata actually had to return to his team before sundown. It wasn’t like he had the leisure of staying with him—and he was sure that Kuroo, nor Karasuno’s captain, would be open to the idea. But he decided to accept it— partially because he had learned to brush it off, and second, because he knew that this wouldn't be the last time they saw each other.

They redressed quickly and clumsily. Kenma, a bit wobbly from overworking himself, stood Hinata at the door and saw him off. But as Hinata pulled on his jacket and began to pick up the duffel bag he had left at the door, Kenma casually held out one of his sweaters, tossing it at him.

”Oh,” Hinata said, taking it. “What is this for?”

“Take it,” Kenma said. “Just in case you… um, get cold.” It was a pretty weak excuse, but judging by Hinata’s expression, he took it with ease. 

They both hesitated for a moment before Kenma leaned forward, holding the distance between them. Shyly, Hinata kissed him and pulled back, his hand pushing open the door as he nodded and looked over Kenma one more time.

“I guess I should say good luck with the match next week!” He said, matching up his voice to mimic the excitement he felt, flashing Kenma a small smile. “We’ll… okay, we’ll definitely beat you! I know it! And if we don’t, then—“ he paused. “The next time I’m here, this will be even better! I’ll try harder next time, I promise—“

“Go,” Kenma said, and shoved him out the door. “Stop babbling, you look silly.”

Hinata breathed in once, then twice, then nodded stiffly once more. “Goodbye, Kenma Kozume! Until we meet again!”

And then, just like that, he took off down the driveway.

\--

“So,” Kuroo said. “Yaku told me he saw you with Hinata yesterday after practice.”

Kenma was lying on his bed horizontally, half asleep, his blanket halfway draped off his head as he pressed the A button on his PSP. Even though the conversation was over, he didn’t have half the heart to stop it from repeating himself; he was far too tired to care, and simply huffed in response to what Kuroo was saying to him.

“What’d you guys do?” he asked. “Talk about volleyball? Bond over video games? Act like idiots? You weren't texting me back, so. I got kinda worried, y’know.”

Kenma sighed and kicked his legs. “He’s really cute,” he said. “We kissed n’ stuff. Keep that to yourself.”

Kuroo’s hand rested against his head.

Softly, he patted it. “Whatever. Good job,” he said. “You’ve done well.” 

It was the last thing he heard before he dropped his head against the mattress and fell asleep; whatever it was that he said after that, fell on deaf ears. All he could do after that was stay prepared and excited for their next match against Karasuno— and his next meeting with Hinata Shouyou.


End file.
